A SCENT THAT TRANSPORTS
2014-12-17 / Seoul, South Korea
“What should I get Father for Christmas?”
The shuffling stops, suddenly. She swears she can almost hear his bewilderment.
There’s a faucet being run, something being discarded in the sink. “Where would you even get the money, Sowon-nim?”
Smudges of ink stain the white of her paper, hands clammy for whatever reason. She shifts the phone higher on her shoulder. “I work part-time, oppa,” he inales; sharply, like he’s about to protest, but she cuts him short. “I’d like to not feel like a liability this time, so please –”
“I haven’t even said anything, Sowonie –”
“But you will,” once again, she interrupts him. “I know you will.”
(This might be turning into a habit.)
(A bad habit.)
2016-10-17 / Seoul, South Korea
“Incense Oud.”
Sowon looks at him, this time. The first time today. He keeps his on the road. As he should.
“Sorry, what?”
He grins – pleased, perhaps, that she’s finally paying attention to him. “Incense Oud,” he repeats, syllables rolling off his tongue in slow measures. “You mentioned it once, in your sleep.”
Suddenly the bobble heads on the dashboard seem quite fascinating. “You must have heard wrong.”
Jihyun hums, lower lip jutting forward. “You’re probably right,” he begins, easing into the brakes as the light turns red. “That’s shit, anyway – Incense Oud, I mean,” he quickly amends as she turns to him, lips curling in disdain.
“And besides,” he continues, one hand threading through his hair, “doesn’t Aventus smell better?”
A beat of silence. “Sure.”
